


Face It

by SolarMorrigan



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond is a bit cruel without meaning to be, Face Blindess, It's not actual true face blindness, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Prosopagnosia, but that's the name everyone uses for it, it ends up okay, just as a disclaimer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15585117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: Bond challenges Q a little more than he means to





	Face It

**Author's Note:**

> This is another old one of mine. Quick note: everyone's experience with face blindness (such as it is) varies. I've based Q's a little off mine and a little off some research, so it may not match up with everyone's views of it
> 
> Originally posted here as part of a collection, which I've deleted; if you left kudos or a comment for this fic there, please know that I've saved it to look upon and cherish (also, thank you)

“Yes, 003, software confirms it, your mark is in the café.”

“ _Got it, Q. 003 out._ ”

Bond watched over Q’s shoulder as he switched the connection with agent 003 onto standby and placed the window tracking 003’s mission into the corner of one of the monitors set up around Q’s desk before he spoke. “That facial recognition software is really something else. I don’t think I’ve seen one work quite like it.”

“That’s because I designed it. Given the proper angle, it can determine the identity of a person regardless of accessories, facial hair, or injuries.” Q preened a bit under the praise, “Fastest recognition program currently in existence.”

“Very impressive.” Bond allowed, “Though it’s still no replacement for an agent’s instincts.”

Q cut Bond an exasperated look. “It  _can_  be. Obviously, sometimes, it has to be.”

“Yes, but sometimes we don’t have access to you and all your lovely software. Agents must be capable of identifying people without relying on technology.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the lot of you going soft.” Q replied, “Still, I’d say my lovely software is highly reliable and every bit as capable as a field agent’s instincts.”

“But what if you didn’t have it?” Bond pressed, idle chatter transforming into something more inquisitive.

“Well I do have it, so the hypothetical is moot.” Q insisted.

“Not if you’re out in the field, it’s not.”

“I’m never…” Q paused, “I am  _hardly ever_  out in the field. I don’t see the point of this conversation.”

“Not one to follow up on a challenge, Quartermaster?” Bond teased, “Seems unlike you.”

“I wasn’t aware a challenge had been issued.” Q replied archly, finally looking over at Bond.

“Perhaps not a challenge as such. But do you think you could identify an enemy in disguise without the aid of your program? If it came down to it?”

Q hesitated. Q hardly ever hesitated. “I… don’t have the time for this right now, Bond, I’m–”

“Between tasks, it would seem.” Bond interrupted, gesturing to the relatively clear space on Q’s monitors, “Just five minutes.”

“I don’t think–”

“You think entirely too much. Pull up six’s criminal database, I can find what I’m looking for from there.” Bond insisted.

There was a pause, and though Bond was fairly certain the odds were in his favor that Q would give in and do as he asked, there was still a not unlikely chance that Q would lock down his computers and order Bond from his office – he’d done so before and Bond was sure it would happen again. After a moment, however, Q huffed and, after shooting one last glare at Bond, pulled up the requested database. “Have at it, then.” Q intoned, pushing his chair back from the desk to give Bond room to type.

Bond went to work, pulling up a few names of targets he remembered to have disguised themselves well. Q would certainly be familiar with any criminals involved in recent operations, and Bond decided he would start easy: a member of a drug cartel who had grown a rather impressive beard and worn sunglasses to avoid detection. He pulled the picture up and presented it to Q. “Name this man.”

“Seems redundant, Bond, I’m sure the man already has a name.” Q cocked a challenging eyebrow at Bond.

“ _Identify him_ , smartass.”

Q’s fingers twitched immediately towards the keyboard and Bond stopped him, covering the keys with his own hand. “Ah ah, no tech. Identify him from memory.”

“Bond, I hardly think…”

“Come now, Q, it’s an easy one. We just wrapped up this operation about six months ago.”

With a glare that seemed entirely too furious given the situation, Q looked from Bond to the screen, his look never losing its heat. “Giving a margin of two weeks on either side of exactly six months ago, we wrapped up three operations in that time frame, only one of which you were involved in. Donovan Brady.” Q rattled off after a moment.

Bond frowned. “You were supposed to identify him by face, not by  _case_.”

“You’re the one who gave me the hint.” Q pointed out.

“Fine.” Bond delved deeper into the records, deliberately seeking out a case he hadn’t been involved in.

It was still within Q’s tenure of Quartermaster, but an operation which Alec had informed Bond of; a terrorist with a disturbing penchant for face paint. Bond pulled up the photo, a stylized mask of red devil paint covering the man’s face.

Q grinned. “Too easy, Bond. Angel Losa.”

Bond hummed and pulled up a picture of Losa without his paint. “And who is this?”

The grin fell from Q’s face. He was silent for a few beats longer than Bond expected before casting a glance at the agent. “Was this one before I took over Q Branch?”

“No. You know this man.” Bond prompted.

Frowning again, Q scanned the screen, his eyes darting over Losa’s face with an increasing frustration. “I must not have been involved with this one, I can’t… say I recognize him.”

“Angel Losa again.” Bond replied, cocking his head a bit to the side.

“Ah.” Q opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down at the keyboard, “I suppose I must never have bothered to look him up without his infamous face paint. Sloppy of me. Thank you for pointing that out, I’ll be sure to…”

“How about this one?” Bond pulled a picture of an arms dealer, a woman who had disappeared for a few months and resurfaced with a frizzy perm and a penchant for overlarge sunglasses.

“Alright, you’ve proven your point, Bond.” Q huffed, “I’ll just…”

“Who is she?” Bond pressed.

“I…”

Bond pulled up a picture of the woman from before she’d gone underground, pin-straight hair and face uncovered, and Q still looked perplexed. “That’s… the same person?” Bond expected Q hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like the question it had.

That was rather concerning. Bond pulled a few more photos, accessing the personnel files and throwing a few MI6 employee pictures in alongside captured and dead criminals. Q recognized a few, but grew increasingly agitated as more and more faces passed by without his recognition. After six more pictures, Q stood from his chair, reaching over and shoving Bond’s hand out of the way to hit a few keys and render all three monitors dark. “ _Enough_ , Bond. You’ve… you’ve proven your point.”

“You can’t do it, can you?” Bond knew the answer to the question even as he asked it.

“I don’t  _have_  to. That’s what the software is for.” Q insisted.

“You don’t always have the software.”

“I know that!” Q snapped, “I  _know_. Don’t think I don’t bloody understand.”

Bond was silent for a moment. “You told me you had an eidetic memory.”

“Facial recognition and memory come from different parts of the brain.” Q replied sharply, “Just what are you trying to prove here, 007?”

Honestly, he hadn’t quite been trying to prove anything. It had started out as a simple challenge – a tease. Now, Bond was rather concerned that Q would be completely unaware if he ran into a hostile outside of MI6. Never mind the implications it had on his work.

“Mallory knows.” Q broke the tense silence, “Tanner knows. M knew. R knows. Now you know. Congratulations on shoving your way into a very exclusive club.”

“Q, if you’re unable to recognize people— _dangerous people_ —on sight…”

“It’s easier in person.” Q cut in, “Clothes, hair, demeanor, voice, they’re all giveaways. Two-dimensional images are… difficult. But there is, admittedly, more than one reason I’m rarely in the field.”

“And never alone.” Bond recalled.

“And never alone.” Q nodded, “Prosopagnosia. Face blindness. A relatively mild case, all things considered.”

Bond considered the quartermaster for a moment. “Were you– Did you have an accident, or…”

Q tossed Bond a sour look. “No. It is a condition that can develop due to brain damage, of course, but I’ve had the dubious fortune of dealing with it since birth. Repeated exposure to a person makes it much easier to recognize them on sight, even in photographs, but faces don’t stay with me. It’s difficult to recall features and place them in the proper position.

Mallory, Tanner, Moneypenny, R, all of them I could pick out in a crowd, given they haven’t altered their usual appearance much. Some of the techs I work with on a more regular basis I could probably pick out without much fuss. But there is a reason I created such comprehensive recognition software.”

“What about me?” That actually was not the question Bond had meant to ask at all, but it was the one that came out, so he held fast to it.

“Of course I recognize you.” Q huffed, reclaiming his seat. “You face isn’t really clear when you’re not here, but I think at this point I would be able to recognize you with little difficulty as long as you don’t go out of your way to drastically alter your appearance.”

“Oh?”

“Of course.” Q repeated, “As though I could forget such a persistent annoyance as you.”

Bond smirked. “And here I thought you may have actually grown fond of me.”

“Fondness has little do with it. It’s exposure more than anything.” Q replied, booting his monitors back up and shutting down all the photos littering the screens, “But I never said I  _wasn’t_  fond of you. Complete and utter shit that you are.”

“Why Q, you charmer.” Bond drawled, cocking a hip against Q’s desk.

“Yes, I simply ooze charisma.” Q swatted vaguely at Bond, “Now get your arse off my desk and get out of my office. I have a meeting in half an hour and I’d be so terribly disappointed if I missed out on that migraine.”

“Don’t you wonder whether I’ve grown fond of you, though?” Bond inquired, even as he ambled toward the door.

Q gave Bond a dry look over the rims of his glasses. “I think I can live with the suspense.”

Bond shook his head. “I’ll see you later, Q.”

“Unfortunately.” Q sighed, though he didn’t seem nearly as put-out about it as he pretended to be.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also posted on Tumblr!](http://solarmorrigan.tumblr.com/post/171838068573/wrote-this-quite-a-while-ago-had-a-good-time)


End file.
